


reunions

by spoke



Category: Yami No Matsuei
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, M/M, how can a bunch of ghosts be so afraid of ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:04:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoke/pseuds/spoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the record, in my mind Muraki <b>has</b> no brother. Who knows what he was doing with Tsuzuki in the Kyoto arc in this case, but it certainly did not involve head transplants of dead family members.</p>
<p>Also, I was unable to find a last minute beta, so any mistakes here really are my own. I am so sorry, and I hope it's enjoyable anyway.</p>
    </blockquote>





	reunions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phoebe_Zeitgeist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebe_Zeitgeist/gifts).



> For the record, in my mind Muraki **has** no brother. Who knows what he was doing with Tsuzuki in the Kyoto arc in this case, but it certainly did not involve head transplants of dead family members.
> 
> Also, I was unable to find a last minute beta, so any mistakes here really are my own. I am so sorry, and I hope it's enjoyable anyway.

After considering the nature of his subject, he decided the approach would require someone from his special collection. 

Stepping away from his desk, he winced as his footfalls almost echoed in the silence of his nearly abandoned sanctuary. The cleaning crew had been by, of course, but there was a certain stale quality to the place that he would have to cleanse. 

It was pleasing to note that at least the shields on the inner rooms had survived his brush with death. Tied as they were to his own energy, it had been something of a concern - or might have been, had he even believed he was going to survive the incredible heat Tsuzuki had summoned in his own bid for death. 

The frown twisting his face reflected dimly in the glass, and it was only that which made him aware he was frowning. His control would need some work as well. 

Even entering the rooms had begun to soothe the lingering burn that not even his unexpected savior had quite eased - although it had seemed to him that its intention had been more repair than healing. These dolls were separated, each in its own glass display and each unique in its nature. He passed ancient burnt clay and porcelain that shimmered with fear, his reflection barely visible in the dim light playing on the glass. Dulled glass eyes regarded him with rage, and faded cloth yearned for the touch of someone long lost, and still he walked, tasting only to search for the most useful reaction - one he had sensed years ago. 

All that time in research, and it would have been wasted by his haste.

In one of the last rooms, in a smaller case than most, he finally found what he wanted. She was elegant in her own way, and perfectly suited to be the bait in this game. Now he only needed to contact a particular collector.

* * *

“So it’s a cold case?” Hisoka asked, his voice nearly drowned out by the of Tsuzuki’s complaints as his latest pastry-feast in lieu of meetings was confiscated. 

Watari nodded. “Over a hundred years old. A couple were forbidden to marry, and the girl committed suicide. Her soul never did show up, and the ministry agent who was sent couldn’t find it. But what really made it interesting was that the boy never married and never moved from his family home - and when he died, his soul went missing as well. There have been reports of hauntings in that place ever since, but they never last for long and no one who tries to investigate has found anything.” 

“They couldn’t find anything. That’s...” Incompetent, he was going to say, but something in Watari’s expression caused him to hesitate. “Did the shinigami working the case leave any notes?” 

Watari responded just as the cake argument became a scuffle, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the sound of Tsuzuki gloating around a mouthful of pastry. “It was Tatsumi, kid.” Watari’s eyes glinted behind the glasses, but his expression was mostly calm. Which was mildly impressive, considering both the subject matter and the fact that Tatsumi was even now glaring death at Tsuzuki in the background. 

Tsuzuki might’ve looked angrier if his face wasn’t covered in crumbs that were slowly falling to the floor.

Hisoka was sure his expression wasn’t nearly that well controlled. He could feel a vein twitching - or that might be Tatsumi, it was still difficult separating his emotions from somebody else’s when they were having essentially the same reaction. So much for getting Tatsumi to just tell him what he remembered about the case. “So, the library then?”

Watari smiled, entirely too cheerful. “Be prepared for a lot of reading!” 

Hisoka rolled his eyes as he made for the door, hoping to get out before Tsuzuki or Tatsumi could notice. “Yeah, yeah. At least he has good handwriting.”

Of course Tsuzuki came looking for him, once he noticed he’d been abandoned. Which meant he had to sneak into the library, since the Gushoshin were taking their current ban very seriously. At least it made him keep his whining down to a whisper. 

“But Hisokaaa.” 

It’s still whining. Not to mention he was using that pitiable expression again, which would be more helpful on someone who couldn’t tell that he was just trying to get out of work. “No. Didn’t Tatsumi already tell you the location of the house, at least?” 

Just like that, the pouting stopped - and that little bit of amusement spiked. Tsuzuki shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Yeees.” 

“After he stood there and watched you clean the crumbs off the floor?” Glancing up at the lack of response, he just caught Tsuzuki’s smirk as the other waved and left.

* * *

The sun beating down would’ve made it impossible to hide, if he hadn’t chosen to remain invisible. It was still a little difficult to blend in with the crowd and not get walked through - sure, he knew they’d feel a weird chill at most, but who needs it? 

Not to mention it would be just his luck to get walked through by a psychic or something and catch it from Hisoka when his partner got here. No one liked having to explain that you needed a mortal’s memory wiped. 

There were a lot of locals out enjoying the sunlight after yesterday’s rain, too. It was only worth the effort because he’d overheard a couple talking about the owner of that house. 

The woman had paused by a shop window, not so much to look at the merchandise as to check her hair apparently. Tsuzuki took the opportunity to move a little closer. “He can’t sleep anymore, he said.” 

The man sighed. “Yes, I know. It shows at work, too! He ought to get something done about it, call in a priest maybe. Instead he’s thinking about moving? Ridiculous.” 

Well. At least now he had an idea about how to get in the house in a physical form. Hopefully that would be enough to satisfy Hisoka, because what he’d been able to sense standing outside that house had been disturbing enough - he didn’t really want to find out how Hisoka was going to react.

He knew better by now than to try and warn off his too-serious partner, though. 

* * *

Seeing Tsuzuki leaning against the fence outside their assignment, Hisoka frowned. “Have you even been inside?” 

The expression on his face when he looked up was expectedly serious. “No. I’ve been listening to neighborhood gossip.” 

He was about to say something disapproving, but as he came closer, he stopped short. Now he could feel why Tsuzuki wasn’t his usual bubbly self - something in that house was wrong, intensely enough that he was sure even his partner could feel it. “Well?”

Tsuzuki shoved away from the fence to stand by Hisoka. “He’s driving his family and neighbors crazy, talking about the haunting and how he can’t tell what it is. He won’t call in a priest or anything, though, and he’s actually talking about moving. Doesn’t make any sense, according to everyone talking about it.” 

Hisoka felt himself shaking his head at an odd distance - whatever was in there was almost sucking him in. The heat of the wind blowing around them was actually becoming a comfort. “It doesn’t want to leave, Tsuzuki. It belongs there, and he doesn’t. It wants him to leave.” 

“It, huh.” Tsuzuki was giving him a side-eyed look Hisoka wasn’t even going to bother figuring out. He needed inside.

* * *

“Stop complaining, Tsuzuki. It’s already healed!” Hisoka hissed, picking at his dessert. It was hard to have an appetite after that.

Which didn’t seem to apply to Tsuzuki. “But it hurt! Crazy old man.” Pouting at his empty plate, Tsuzuki sighed. “And totally uncalled for, we were offering to help.”

“To help _him_ , yes. But it’s the ghost we angered, it’s almost possessed him. I tried to tell you that, if you’d actually listened. I’ll have to call the office, ask them to get him out. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, hey?” He stood, shoving his plate over to Tsuzuki, who lit up predictably.

At least he remembered to swallow before replying. “Of course not! You’re my partner, right?”

“Right.” Hopefully his skepticism was thick enough for Tsuzuki to take the hint.

* * *

So he knew Hisoka was expecting him to wait - but the old man had gone to sleep, and the house felt so much quieter for it that Tsuzuki saw no reason not to go in. Spirit form couldn’t be caught prowling, after all. 

He’d wandered the upper floors for a bit without seeing anything really unusual. A lot of old books, some samurai artifacts that seemed out of place next to the computer - though that could just be him. An old hina doll in a lovely case, which seemed new - maybe worth mentioning to Hisoka. Nothing felt out of the ordinary to him, though. 

One of the old screen paintings was wonderful, a bird resting on a branch against a backdrop of mountains. He was lost in looking at that when it occurred to him that there might be a basement. 

The quiet he walked into was unexpected for its purely natural quality. It felt unnaturally hot down here, and he got a vague impression of the kind of anger he’d faced from the old man. He would’ve felt better if the whole world had gone silent, instead of the continuing sounds of water and insects, the distant hum of cars passing outside. ..water?

He crouched down, staring at the water. What was a river doing in a basement? Nevermind that he could see something moving in it, even though there was no light down here. He stayed in the crouch, not wanting to appear startled. No good to make it bolt, after all. 

Shifting his weight slightly, he thought for a moment. Maybe, if it thought he had company... “Hey, Hisoka? Come take a look at this?”

A low growl from the water was his only response. Right. That couldn’t be good. The water was moving faster now, and he shifted again, hand slipping into a coat pocket.

It exploded out of the water, long and white and snarling, and he’s never seen a dragon quite like this but he isn’t about to take the time to examine it. The first fuda misses, but the second connects for a moment, and in that moment he sees a young man - or at least the outline of one. The light around it flares up, burning through his fuda and making him curse. He should’ve gone for a stronger restraint. 

The young man looks... almost alive, at this point. He also looks weirdly familiar, though it takes Tsuzuki a moment to figure it out. “He’s not your father, you know.” 

The ghost hissed in a voice that is nothing like human, through a mouth that’s a toothless pit. “Close enough.”

Tsuzuki shook his head. “No, kid. Not even close. Do you know how much time has passed? He could be your descendant -” 

Now it was looking less human again, its edges distorted, the colors within blurring together. “No children! They took her from me!”

Shrugging, Tsuzuki slipped into a lotus position the floor. It’d play merry hell with his back later, but casual was more or less working so far. “Would you like to tell me about it?” 

* * *

The anger he’d felt at arriving to find Tsuzuki already inside was quickly replaced by worry when they couldn’t find him. Worse, he couldn’t _feel_ him. He could feel where he’d been, that he’d lingered in front of this painting and that doll, but he couldn’t tell where he was now. 

Tatsumi had directed the removal of the owner before joining him in the search. They went through the whole place, variously calling to and hurling abuse at Tsuzuki before ending up back on the ground floor. 

That was where they heard the laughter.

It wasn’t human, to begin with. There was something hard about it, and mocking, and just a little bit familiar. But the only thing behind them was the doll. 

Hisoka felt himself turning slowly, almost at a distance, and wondered why he felt so angry suddenly. He also noticed that Tatsumi only turned his head. “Something wrong, Hisoka?” 

“It’s the doll - it feels strange. I think it’s in pain.” 

It’s almost a relief that Tatsumi is here at the moment and not Tsuzuki - his partner would’ve probably wasted time trying to make sure Hisoka was alright. Tatsumi just asked if he was okay, and then went straight to the doll.

Though he was a little hostile about it. “Who are you?” 

It probably wasn’t his imagination that the doll’s eyes moved to focus on Tatsumi, although he couldn’t say how they accomplished that. “Akane.” 

To Hisoka’s surprise, he actually flinched. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, and Hisoka could feel his regret. “How long have you been like this, Akane?” 

The laughter started again, higher pitched and somehow cleaner for it. “Long, a long time. You were here long ago and I was still the doll girl then.” 

“Still the doll girl - but that implies you were something else, right?” Hisoka asked, forcing himself closer. Which he had to think might have been a mistake, as light from nowhere flared up - he saw Tatsumi’s eyes close just before his own.

When the light faded, the young girl standing before them almost looked human. Except for the rather obvious lack of feet.

Tatsumi continued as if nothing had happened. “But you haven’t always been in this house, have you? In fact, you’ve been gone a long time.”

She nodded slowly. “I was sent away. As a living person, as a doll person, always sent away.” 

Candlelight flickered across his glasses as he adjusted them. “How did you come back?” 

Her expression hardened. “The pale monster sent me. He came into the room with everyone trapped, and took me away, and sent me home.” 

Hisoka heard himself hiss even as he felt Tatsumi’s spike of anger. “Muraki? Was his name Muraki?”

Her head tilted slightly, looking between them. “I don’t know his name. None of us did, I think. We just called him the pale monster, or devil, or...”

Tatsumi’s expression was closed, now, but Hisoka could still feel the outrage. “Or other things I am sure a lady doesn’t want to say. But we came here to help you, or whoever was trapped in this house. But we have a problem as well - while we were gone, our friend went missing. Do you know where he is?” 

She shook her head. “There was another man here? He went away. Somewhere I couldn’t see, but I wanted to follow him.” 

Which had to be the moment that they heard shouting from the room behind them, and everyone jumped. In Akane’s case, that meant floating nearly to the ceiling. Tatsumi and Hisoka exchanged a glance that quickly shifted to relief as they recognized the voice. 

“I’ll stay with Akane.” Tatsumi offered, a hard edge to his smile. “I have a few questions. Will you tell that idiot not to wander off again?” 

“Gladly.” He nodded sharply, then bowed just a bit to Akane. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she might have blushed a bit - hopefully that meant it had been the right thing to do?

Then he stormed into the next room, where a trap door was shaking with the idiot’s efforts to knock it open from the other side. 

There hadn’t been a trap door when they were searching. “Calm down, Tsuzuki! Hang on a minute, I’ll help you.” Hisoka knelt down to grasp the edges of the door as the pounding stopped.

There was a faint sound like Tsuzuki’s head hitting something. Or his hand, but he preferred to imagine it was his head at this point. “Hisoka! I am so glad to hear you.” 

“You had better be, after this stunt. Just a minute, I’m trying to get a grip - okay. You push, I’ll pull.” 

There was a moment when he was worried that it wouldn’t give, and thought of calling Tatsumi in to just destroy the thing - and then he landed on his rear as the door shot up. He might have been a bit more annoyed by that if it hadn’t given him the perfect view of the door snapping back down on Tsuzuki’s head. 

He, for once, didn’t whine about it even a little - he just winced and hurried off the stairs, cradling an old fashioned fan in his arms as if it were a child. “Where have you been, anyway? I must have been down there for hours.” 

Hisoka sighed, pushing himself off the floor. “Tsuzuki, it was only an hour and a half. My question is, how did you get down there when there isn’t a basement in this place?” 

Tsuzuki looked up from his precious fan, face falling just a little. “There.. isn’t?” He whispered, and his voice began to rise in that familiar, stupid panic. “Then where have I been?!” 

Well he might be relieved, but he wasn’t letting that pass. “Tsuzuki. Someday, we’re going to have to get everyone in this department together, and sit around a campfire-” he paused for a moment to let the confusion and hope creep in “and tell human stories until you _stop being scared of ghosts_!” 

Nothing like a good round of chewing out Tsuzuki to brighten his mood.

* * *

“But she’d been trapped by that bastard for years, and he’d been going crazy all by himself. Do you think they’ll really be okay?” Tsuzuki asked, a deeper pleading in his eyes than care about the case strictly required. 

He shrugged, carefully casual as he turned to reshelve the books. “They’re not going to be reincarnated until they’ve worked it out, right? They have eternity if that’s what they need to take.” 

One of the nice things about his powers was not having to turn around to know Tsuzuki was smiling again.

* * *

He was visiting when he felt the connection sever. Luckily for his still weakend condition, he was already seated by the pool, watching Oriya practice. Those sharp brown eyes turned to him, stance unchanging, so he smiled and waved it off. 

Which earned him an irritated frown, but they knew each other well enough by now that he didn’t stop his practice. 

Later, Muraki told himself, he’d go to the house - find out what had been going on, see what his little ears and eyes had picked up. Surely with that kind of bait Tatsumi had not stayed entirely out of the case. But just now the cherry blossoms were falling in Oriya’s hair.

Such moments were meant to be savored.


End file.
